


Make You Believe

by ikindaneedahero



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Voldemort Wins, Christianity, Daddy Kink, Dom Bucky Barnes, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Light BDSM, Loki (Marvel) Does What He Wants, M/M, Multi, Natasha Romanov Is Not A Robot, Not Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Other, Praise Kink, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Religious Content, Tony Stark Is a Good Bro, Tony Stark is Good With Kids
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27169195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ikindaneedahero/pseuds/ikindaneedahero
Summary: Taking over one universe isn't enough, so Voldemort sends war prisoners Hermione, Ginny, and Luna to Dimension 3261 in order to breed magical superhumans with HYDRA's prize supersoldier. Only, the year they land in is 2020 and things aren't where they were when Tom Riddle visited D3261 back in 1947.Or the one where Hermione, Luna, and Ginny get the peaceful lives they've yearned for and learn how to coexist with the Avengers.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Hermione Granger, James "Bucky" Barnes/Hermione Granger/Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Loki (Marvel)/Luna Lovegood, Natasha Romanov (Marvel)/Ginny Weasley, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark
Comments: 38
Kudos: 121





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah, another fic is definitely what the doctor called for. Needed to get this outlandish plot out into the universe. 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy this lavish and fun universe that is comprised of very little hurting and very much comfort and indulgence.

She’d been in the windowless dungeon long enough for her leg hair to grow out to the length of Chewbacca and her menses to come once, no matter the blessedly weak flow. Barely any food or water would do that to you. Every slam of the door had her cringing in on herself, weak in a way that only hopelessness and being utterly wandless could make her. Today, though, she never got to take her breath of relief at not being taken. It was time to die, and as ready as she thought she’d be… she wasn’t.

“Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is i-”

“Quiet, mudblood,” the foul smelling man who’d hauled her up by her hair snarled. Hermione whimpered as she was silenced with his wand, continuing to recite the Lord’s Prayer in her mind. Unlike her grandfather’s passing, there would be no priest there to read her Last’s Rites. She hoped that heaven was real; that God was real. Voldemort’s victory had her more certain that ever that God was real and Jesus was coming back; wasn’t this the awful, unthinkable world that the Book of Revelations alluded to? Show her something worse than this. Please, Lord Jesus… come. She tried to stem her tears as the thought of Ron’s incredulous and disbelieving face every time she’d tried to explain Christianity to him in the past.

“Harry Potter’s precious prizes, all mine after years of evasion,” the croaky, sickly voice Hermione never wanted to hear again croaked out. She looked up, bloody, defiant feet skidding to a halt in front of the throne the man sat on. She took a quick look around the ballroom she found herself in, surprised that such an opulent place could coexist with the hellish dungeon she’d spent at least 30 days starving and being tortured in.

Hermione sucked in a panicked breath, tears forming in her eyes at the sight of an equally ragged Luna and Ginny. They were alive, and they were going to die in front of her. Everyone she loved was going to die while she watched without any way to stop it.

The muggleborn dared a look up at Voldemort, feeling only slightly gratified at the way he seemed close to disintegrating. There was only one horcrux left and he seemed closer to death than she could’ve imagined. If they only would’ve found the necklace before it found its forever home around its owner’s neck. She steeled her shoulders, unwilling to let that train of thought take flight. She had a date with death to attend with dignity.

“A final torture on this earth to the mudblood brain… a lesson without the opportunity to ask questions,” the snakelike man rasped. Hermione was smug at seeing how there was no snake slithering across him; Neville had lived the beast’s head off in the last moments of his life. She only wished he hadn’t died in vain, that their years on the hunt had led to something more than a death in a cold, calm room.

“During my travels as a young man, I discovered everything this world has to offer, only to learn that there was more. Other worlds, other outcomes. A world where Harry Potter did more than die at my feet like a dog, a merciful world where he never existed. And there are those who have learned how to master travel to these worlds. They’ve taught me their methods, and I have to admit it has me feeling sentimental.”

“Our most merciful Lord,” Bellatrix Lestrange whimpered. Hermione grit her teeth at the knowledge that the woman was still alive. She’d love to watch her slow death if it couldn’t be at her hands.

“And final lesson for you three… our greater good is more than the simple-minded plot Dumbledore had in mind. There are worlds without our kind; worlds without magic, worlds with the innovation of myself, only… without me. We will change that, one world at a time. I’ve little reason to explain to the likes of the broodmares you’ll become, but soon, when you’re strapped to a bed birthing the first generation of enhanced, magical beings… know that I am a merciful lord who has made you a pioneer instead of just another martyred body decaying in the dirt.” 

The man sighed, and Hermione was certain that his breath would smell like death. It was hard to look at someone so decrepit and heinous, but she wouldn’t look away, not when he would take it as fear. If she didn’t live as a coward, she wouldn’t die as one.

“Now, Nott will take you three to the most promising of worlds that I’ve made contact with. You’ll wish for my mercy in the face of your new masters, though they’ll have your wands in case you are ever willing to cooperate.”

“My Lord,” a slightly trembling and older man said. Theodore Nott’s dad. Theodore Nott who’d jumped ship during the Battle at Hogwarts with Draco Malfoy, taking out Antonin Dolohov and Corban Yaxley only to die at the hand of Bellatrix Lestrange. They’d died with hope that Harry would win; Hermione was happy that they didn’t live long enough to see what the world had become… the quivering, simpering messes that their fathers continued to be.

“Get them out of my sight. I expect you to be back when the timer runs out or else.”

“As you wish, my Lord. Incarcerous!” The man shouted, and Hermione let out a loud, newly vocal shriek as her frail body crashed into two others. Her mouth was full of red and blonde hair, and she couldn’t help but sob in elation at the physical touch of her friends. They all still wore their clothes they’d had on when they’d been captured, blood, grime, body fluids and all.

“As your new muggle compatriots say… good luck,” Voldemort said, flicking a careless hand towards them with eyes that held far more hope and victory than Hermione wanted to see.

Her last thought before being sucked out of existence was that she wished she could hold Luna and Ginny’s hands.

xxxx

It felt like a lifetime before her feet slammed onto the ground, jumping into a war-ready stance despite being wandless and weak.

A loud noise blared immediately, causing Ginny to shriek and topple the trio over from where they were still tied together onto a well-tiled ground. Hermione’s mind, always working, quickly noted that magic clearly worked in this world.

“Tell me who you are before I blast you to pieces,” a tinny sounding voice asked from behind the girls. Luna shivered at the sound, ducking closer to Hermione’s chest rather than trying to sit up. In a moment of shame that’d play over in her head for as long as she lived, which was hopefully more than a day, Hermione squeezed her eyes shut and curled up closer to her friends, her sisters. There was little she could do but succumb to death. She hoped it was faster than the tale of torture that Voldemort had told.

“I come in peace! I come in peace! I am here for the Winter Soldier, I have his bounty.”

“Oh, the Winter Soldier!” the same voice called out. If Hermione had to guess, he sounded like he was smothering a laugh. “How’d you know he was here?”

“I have his hair, a locator spell brought us to where the Soldier is. Can you bring his majesty here? I must return to where I’m from, but require confirmation of the delivery of these three.”

“He’s on his way, don’t you worry.”

Hermione couldn’t help but think again that the voice sounded amused.

“What the fuck do you want?” a low voice asked in more of a growl than anything.

“Hail Hydra! Hail Hydra!” Nott said with a whimper in his voice, sounding more like a scared child than the man entrusted with a mission by the most powerful man in the world. Or, Hermione guesses, another world. 

The room was silent for a moment before another ding sounded pleasantly. What was going on?

“Don’t move,” Luna breathed, only loud enough for Hermione and Ginny to hear. “They have muggle weapons.”

Hermione swallowed a whimper. What were they caught in the middle of?

“What is this?” the same rumbling voice asked.

“Your tributes provided by the graciousness of the Dark Lord from Dimension 7291 per a binding contract with Mr. Arnim Zola, signed in March 1947. Use them as you wish as you breed the next generation of superior beings. Hail Hydra and long reign the Dark Lord! Yes, those are the code words.”

“Thank you. What’s in the bag?” the low voice from earlier repeated.

“Their wands for when and if you see fit to return them. They can breed with or without them, Soldier.”

“I’ll take that,” an amused, female voice interrupted, causing Nott to shriek in fright. Clearly, the woman had scuk up from out of nowhere.

“Avada ke-” Nott spat, the deadly curse being cut off.

Hermione shrieked at the loudest bang she’d ever heard, unable to be ashamed of the way she definitely peed herself. She had no idea what was going on, even though she now realized she was free. She sat up at that, looking to see Nott dead on the ground with a round hole perfectly in the center of his forehead. Shot… dead.

“Don’t move,” a man with what looked to be a well-painted trash can lid said authoritatively. He had a cowl over his head, so Hermione had no idea what he looked like outside of his gorgeous jawline. She knew enough about muggle weapons to know they were surrounded.

“What the fuck,” Ginny muttered, starting to sit up when she realized she could. Hermione knew enough to see the trademark Weasley temper building.

“Don’t move, Gin,” Hermione warned, voice far less shaky than she thought it would be as her eyes darted around the oddly dressed people. “They are all armed with the muggle version of the AK.”

“What the fuck,” Ginny repeated, shaking her greasy red hair around.

“Lay down on your stomachs and put your hands behind your back,” the buff blond said.

The women complied immediately, all letting out gasps as their hands and feet were put into cold, heavy silver manacles.

“Who are you?” a large robot asked in a flat, but human voice. He was maroon and gold, and Hermione had to swallow a sob at the sight of her house colours. How was she feeling anywhere near sentimental with six guns pointed at her forehead?

“Hermione Granger, Luna Lovegood, and Ginny Weasley, sir,” Hermione replied. She didn’t make eye contact with the speaking machine, unsure of its ticks.

“Kinky,” the robot replied, getting a dark look from the fellow costumed people near him. Their weapons never wavered. “Now, why don’t you give us your real names?”

“You won’t find us in your directories,” Luna chimed in, voice far weaker than Hermione had ever heard. Her heart ached.

“Why’s that, Elsa?”

Luna looked up with curious confusion, but answered anyway. “He may be a bit demented, but Nott was right. We aren’t from your world.”

“He was a bigot and an idiot to boot,” the robot corrected. “Why are you here?”

“Another one of Zola’s half-cocked schemes,” the dangerous, rumbling voice from earlier sounded. Hermione turned around and gasped at the sight of a handsome man with the biggest gun she’d ever seen. She hadn’t even seen a weapon so lethal looking in films, not that she’d seen one in some years. “He met some psycho back in the 1940s who told him he’d bring witchy girls for me to impregnate. Some shit about the perfect breeding stock for magical supersoldiers. Looks like he recited his phrase thinking I’d comply.”

“Jarv, get Strange here,” the robot muttered. “What kind of magic can you do?”

Hermione couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow. “We can’t do anything if we have our wands.”

“Not a chance in hell,” the female voice from earlier said as the robot started to ask a question. “I’ve already called Fury.”

“Really, Nat? Bureaucracy fucks up everything good in this world,” the robot sighed. “Cap, Thor, Buckaroo, why don’t you take these three to the clink until the well-suited cavalry arrive with their paperwork and regulations?”

A strong, cold hand looped around Hermione’s elbow, and she almost passed out at the effort exerted from standing up straight before being blindfolded. She could tell that Luna and Ginny had experienced the same loss of vision by the angry shriek the redhead elicited.

“Settle down, girl,” a voice murmured, much more gently than she would’ve expected.

Hermione was content to be dragged along by the man, barely able to walk as it was.

“Attempt to escape and die,” the man with a metal arm and large gun warned, ripping the blindfold off of Hermione’s eyes before shutting her into what looked to be a metal box with nary a chair. 

Great, she sighed. Another cell was exactly where she wanted to be.

She closed her eyes and tried to rest until a soft whirring started and the cell door moved to open again. A tall black man with an eyepatch was in front of her, jaw held tight enough she was sure his teeth would shatter. The red, white, and blue man from before was standing next to him, a gun now in his hand and cocked at her. Somehow, she could tell he wasn’t comfortable with it. She could work with that.

“I’m chained up, do you really need to hold that to my face?” Hermione asked, the right amount of aggrieved, fearful, and annoyed.

“I don’t even buy my niece’s cute little girl act and she’s actually cute, so you can cut the shit,” the newcomer spat. “Captain, escort her to the interrogation room.”

Hermione let out a whimper as the man grabbed her arm and jostled her shoulder. Between the torture she’d received over her captivity at Malfoy Manor and the hard landing she took just a few hours ago… she hadn’t healed and hurt everywhere. All she really wanted was a good night of sleep.

“I’m sorry, ma’am,” the man holding her murmured. Weirdly, Hermione could tell that he truly was sorry. She didn’t reply.

The interrogation room turned out looking the same as it did in old muggle movies, only there was a bland-looking white man in a suit sitting at the table already. Her costumed escort removed one of her handcuffs for a moment before hooking it back to her hand, but around a leg of the sturdy looking table. She had to slump over slightly to accommodate the new position, but she was grateful that he took her left arm instead of her injured right one; she wondered if that was on purpose.

“My name is Agent Phil Coulson with S.H.I.E.L.D. Do you know what that is?” the man asked, receiving a head shake in return. “The Department of Homeland Security, then.”

“Not familiar with that either, sir,” Hermione replied honestly, the lack of knowledge grating on her.

The man didn’t show any emotion on his face.

“What day is it?”

“I’m not sure,” she shrugged. “The day I was captured was October 19, 2001. So it’s likely November or early December 2001.”

“Who is the president?”

Hermione snorted, “I’m British, sir.”

“You don’t know the President of the United States?” he asked, raising an incredulous brow of his own.

“The wizarding world was completely cut off from muggle society by the time I was captured. I couldn’t tell you any less who the president is than who the prime minister is.”

“What’s a muggle?”

“A non-magical person. I believe the Americans call them no-majs, though.”

“You look like you haven’t had access to a shower in a while. Why’s that?”

“I was held captive in a dungeon.” Hermione replied just as drily as the man across from her asked his questions, only she knew her annoyance was mounting, unlike his.

“The other two women?”

“I’m not sure,” Hermione answered honestly. “I didn’t see them until we were teleported here.”

“Teleported?”

Hermione shrugged. “I assume that’s what it was; world-hopping, dimension-changing… use whatever term you want. We’re not from here.”

“I’d like to introduce you to Doctor Stephen Strange,” the man said. Hermione turned to look up, all the way up, at a very tall dirty blond man.

“Pleased to meet you,” she replied lightly. “Doctor of what, may I ask?”

The man smiled lightly. Hermione could tell he was dressed in very nice clothes, much nicer than anything she’d ever owned.

“Neurological surgery,” he replied.

“Are you going to perform a lobotomy on me, doctor?” Hermione asked calmly.

“No, ma’am. I’m far more interested in your magic than your brain. How’d you all learn about your powers?”

“We were born with them, like all witches and wizards where we’re from. They learned before I did since they were born into magical families, but I was contacted by the United Kingdom’s school of witchcraft and wizardry when I turned 11.”

“So what can you do?”

Hermione groaned. “You’re all worse than children, I swear. Give me my wand and I’ll show you.”

Both men laughed.

“I think not, miss.”

“Then let my right hand free. I can’t do much without my wand, but I can summon a pen if you put one on the table.”

Hermione was silent as the men shared looks over her head. It only took a tense minute before her right hand was released.

“Accio, pen!” she called, voice calm and confident like it needed to be when performing wandless magic. She was pleased when the pen flew straight into her hand.

“That’s… can you do something else?” the newcomer asked.

“Wingardium leviosa!” she called out, a sense of warmth filling her at the memory of her first year at Hogwarts. The pen rose into the air, and she added a little flourish to the spell and had the pen spinning like a top before dropping it with a clunk.

“Impressive,” Dr. Strange admitted. “Your friends can do this type of magic, too?”

Hermione tensed up, crossing her now free arm across her raggedy sweater-covered chest. She needed a shower and new clothes before the scent of herself made her puke. She would be surprised if the scent of urine on her jeans was still unnoticed by anyone, but couldn’t feel shame still. Oh, how war had changed her.

“All witches and wizards have different abilities and specialties. Wandless magic is extremely tough for even the most accomplished of our people, but I haven’t seen either of them in a while, so who’s to tell what they can do.”

“To the best of your ability, describe why you’re here,” the milquetoast man across from her asked. Only years of reading people’s expressions in the war, a skill she sorely lacked in the first portion of her life, had her noticing that he looked much calmer. Which for this uptight man seemed to mean a lot.

“You don’t seem to believe anything I’m saying, but my guess is as good as yours. When the robot asked Nott, that’s the only answer we received. We were to be broodmares for magical, superior babies since this planet doesn’t have magic.”

Dr. Strange chuckled. “On the contrary, my girl. This world does have magic, only a different kind of magic.”

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “What kind of magic?”

“Strange,” the suited man warned, receiving an eye roll and silence from the doctor. Hermione pouted as the man cut off her only willing source of information.

“Who’s the Dark Lord?”

“Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, the Dark Lord, the egotistical man of many names. He won the war in our world and was far more powerful than anyone had the right to be. He… killed everyone I loved besides Luna and Ginny. I thought we were next, but he sent us here. He said some fates can be worse than death, and this is one of them.”

“Anything else to add?”

“Rather to request, if you will. The loo and perhaps some fresh clothes?” Hermione asked with what was once a winning smile. There was a reason that she was used in covert missions to attract allies to their cause; she was innocent, intelligent, charming and rational all in the same 5’2 person.

“She means the toilet,” Dr. Strange said, receiving a snort from Hermione and groan from the man across from her.

“I’ve got it, Strange. Thanks. Captain, Soldier, if you’ll reshackle her and escort her to the restroom.”

“I’ll see you soon, ma’am,” Dr. Strange said with a slight smile. He was warming up to her for some reason, and Hermione would use that to her advantage.

“As long as it isn’t for a lobotomy, I’ll look forward to it,” Hermione smiled back, stomach warm when he laughed. She hadn’t seen someone laugh in far too long.

The still-masked man was gentle as he re-cuffed Hermione, so much so that she swallowed her groan.

“Take her back to her cell after!”

“That’s a metal box, not a cell,” Hermione murmured to herself, receiving surprised snorts from the two men next to her.

“You gonna behave yourself in there or do I have to watch you, doll?” the tall, dark, buff and handsome one asked.

“Bucky!” the Captain chastised, receiving no reply.

“You can trust me,” Hermione stated, making eye contact with the man… Bucky. She moved quickly, relieving herself despite the knowledge that two very attractive men stood right outside of the bathroom stall.

“All set?” the masked man asked.

“I would be grateful if one of you could help me wash my hands,” Hermione replied with a closed mouth smile. She couldn’t imagine the state of her teeth, shuddering at the thought of what her parents would think.

“Of course,” the masked man replied gently. He moved like a man much smaller than six foot whatever, taking the time to soap up her hands and get all of the dirt off.

Hermione sighed at the feeling of cleanliness. For someone who was task-oriented, there was a great satisfaction in watching blood, dirt, and dead skin cells fall right into the sink.

“Stevie gives a hell of a massage, doesn’t he?”

The woman only let out another sigh, “If only I could take a bath.”

“Won’t be too long, doll,” Bucky replied.

“Bucky,” Steve reprimanded, never stopping his scrubbing motions. “Don’t make promises to prisoners.”

“As someone who knows a thing about false imprisonment, I think I can confidently say these gals ain’t our enemy, Stevie.”

“Not our choice, Buck.”

Hermione’s stomach let out a loud sound as she was guided back through the long hallway.

“When’d you have your last warm meal, miss?” Stevie asked.

The muggleborn laughed, surprised by the question. “Three, maybe four years? Unless you count a can of beans over the fire as a warm meal.”

“We’re depression kids, doll, we know a thing or two about beans over the fire.”

Hermione raised an eyebrow. “What year is it?”

“Nope,” Steve said, shaking his head. “Shut your mouth, Bucky. Just shut it.”

“We’ll get ya out soon, doll. We’re working on it,” Bucky murmured as he shut Hermione back into her metal box, the minty freshness of his breath the last thing she smelled before barren, antiseptic nothingness.

She hoped for her sanity that he was right.

Xxxxxxxxx

Falling asleep in a cell was almost impossible, especially knowing that a wand or a weapon was pointed at you likely at all times. She could be killed or tortured in her sleep, the way that Hannah Abbott was killed. All it took was a drunken Marcus Flint coming down and stomping on her chest as he tried to get to Katie Bell’s cell for the sweet Hufflepuff to die painfully slow with rasping, rattling breaths.

Hermione would rather die from delirium than wake up to missing an arm or a leg.

Next time the door opened, it was to Agent Coulson, a still-masked Steve, Bucky, and a man she had never seen before.

“Miss Granger,” Agent Coulson said politely.

“Agent Coulson,” she replied, just as politely, staying where she was sat in her cell.

“I’m getting major Harley Quinn vibes with this one. Give her the blonde gal’s scalp and we’re good to go,” said the newcomer.

“What did you do to Luna?” Hermione spat, standing up. Despite herself, her hair started to crackle, though it looked less intimidating than normal when she had knotted dreads instead of bouncing curls.

“Cool it, Winifred,” the newcomer said, looking no less at ease despite being clearly unarmed and slightly weak. He was nothing compared to Stevie and Bucky.

“What’s that even mean?” Stevie asked.

“Winifred Sanderson? Bette Midler? Curly haired ring leader in Hocus Pocus?” Tony sighed dramatically, running a hand over his goatee. “No one appreciates pop culture.”

“It is to be appreciated at the proper times, Tony,” Agent Coulson responded patiently. Hermione felt like she and Agent Coulson had a lot in common with the fellow adults that they babysat. “Now, Miss Granger, we are going to go have a little conversation in a meeting room. Once we’re there, I’ll remove your cuffs.”

Hermione grit her teeth and nodded, wondering what was going on. She felt like she was in a Shakespearan comedy, something so odd and outlandish that it couldn’t be funny.

“What year is this?” Hermione asked again, eyes wide as they stepped into an extremely large lift without any buttons.

“2020,” Tony replied quickly, drawing a groan from Steve. “When did you come from?”

“2001… are you pulling my leg?” she asked, voice rising.

“Look at this phone and tell me if I’m pulling your leg,” Tony replied in a sing-song voice, pulling out a sleek piece of metal.

“What kind of phone is this?” Hermione couldn’t help but be enthralled by the prospect of something new, reaching out a jangling, shackled hand to touch it.

“The latest Stark phone,” he replied, as if that would mean something to her. “What kind did you have? I looked for your tech and found nothing.”

Hermione shook her head, “We’ve come a long way from flip phones… Witches and wizards don’t use technology.”

The man let out a delighted laugh, rubbing his hands together like he was trying to warm them in front of a fire. “This is so great! Looks like you two icicles have been usurped as the most inept.”

She got the feeling that Tony, as Coulson called him, soaked up attention like water and refused to reply to him. She was pleased to see Bucky and Steve do the same.

The lift dropped them off into a large meeting room, and Hermione let out a sob at the sight of a free, yet still disgustingly dirty, Luna and Ginny.

“Hermione!” Ginny screamed, running over to the brunette with Luna not far behind. Hermione let herself be hugged, unable to get her arms around her friends with the shackles still tying together her hands and feet. “I thought you were dead.”

“Me too,” Hermione replied, eyes filling up with tears despite herself. “When George… you were just gone! Both of you were gone.”

“We’re together now,” Luna whispered, voice sounding much fiercer and grounded than Hermione’d ever heard, even in the height of war. “We’re going to make it through.”

A cough interrupted the trio’s reunion, and Hermione was annoyed to see it was the one-eyed man from before.

“Sorry to interrupt, girls, but we have a bit to discuss.”

“They’re not girls, Nick,” a redheaded woman replied, annoyance evident in her voice even as she sat painting her nails at the large conference table.

“Witches, women, whatever you are. Sit the fuck down!”

“I was told I’d be unshackled,” Hermione replied, voice much calmer than the short-tempered man at the front of the meeting space.

“Gotcha, doll.”

“Thanks, Bucky,” Hermione replied, smiling up at him before remembering how gross her mouth looked. Despite her uncleanliness, the man winked at her before moving to sit down next to Stevie.

Hermione sat between Luna and Ginny, wanting to be close enough to protect both of her friends if need be, even if it was just with her body. She was at the point where she’d do anything to protect her friends, even to the point of death. Nothing seemed to matter anymore, honestly. 

Across the table were Tony, Agent Coulson, Nick and a couple of men she didn’t recognize. She didn’t take her eyes off of them to peer further around the room, already knowing that they were the powersource of this group.

“We can’t find anything about you three, the man you came with, or this so-called Hogwarts.” Nick started, voice much calmer than his last command. “We have connections to every major government and organization in the world, there has never been one peep of Hogwarts or Diagon Alley or Hogsmeade or Tom Riddle or Voldemort. Nothing.” 

“We don’t exist at all in this world? There’s no Hermione Granger?” 

“No Hermione Granger,” the man replied, shaking his head.

“What about... Shakespeare or Margaret Thatcher or Winston Churchill or Michael Jackson?”

“Shake who?” a blond man asked, a scrunched up expression on his face before he broke into a smile. “Just joshing, we have all of them here.”

Hermione wished she had her wand to hex the man for the heart attack she almost suffered.

“We can compare worlds later, but the only fact that matters to our national security is that you three don’t exist. We don’t know who you are or what you want. What am I supposed to do with that?”

“Give us the benefit of the doubt and let us go,” Luna suggested lightly, receiving a snort from the new redheaded woman. Hermione shot her a glare, but was surprised to see that Ginny was already making interested eyes at her. She would shelf that for later.

“Sanderson 1 just told me that you all don’t even know what a Stark Phone is, how are you going to make it out in the world?” Tony asked, looking genuinely concerned.

“We’ve made it through a world at war, we can make it through a world at peace,” Ginny replied.

“We don’t trust you,” the redheaded woman replied bluntly.

“So what are you going to do? Hold us prisoner again? Isn’t that against some law, you said we’re in America!” Hermione raged.

“S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn’t abide by the law, sweetheart,” Bucky replied.

“The lede that is buried deep in threats and pointed remarks is that you won’t be put back into jail,” Agent Coulson answered, looking tired. “You’ll stay here with the Avengers and they’ll keep an eye on you until we trust you to live without being babsat.”

“Avengers?” the girls asked at the same time.

“Earth’s mightiest heroes!” the giant blond Hermione had seen earlier bellowed. “We… are the Avengers.”

“You so sure about that?” Ginny muttered, drawing a small smile from the other redheaded woman.

“Mi casa es su casa,” Tony said, extending his arms.

“We’re in your house?” Ginny asked, an ungroomed brow raised high.

“Yup, this whole tower is mine,” Tony replied, popping his ‘p.’ American accents really were hard to stomach, Hermione thought to herself. “You landed right in the middle of our family room like the most unwanted visitors ever.”

“Thank you for the warm welcome,” Luna beamed earnestly, eyes slightly more dreamy than before.

“Anything for you, Elsa,” the man replied with a sharp nod.

“When do we get our wands back?” Hermione asked, knowing she couldn’t be the only one thinking it.

“When we know you won’t open up a portal in the sky and let aliens from a different dimension in,” Tony replied, gaining groans from everyone around the table.

“What?” Hermione asked.

“You don’t want to know,” Steve said solemnly.

“So… is there a shower in this house?” Ginny questioned.

Tony let out a loud, delighted laugh. “First, it’s a tower, not a house. Second, there are more showers than you’ll ever know what to do with, little red.”

“What are we waiting for, then?” Ginny asked, standing up from the table.

“Not so fast,” Fury said. Hermione couldn’t even hide her groan.

“That’s the spirit,” Tony smiled, getting smacked by the redhead next to him.

“You will be watched 24/7. You won’t use the restroom without us knowing. Try to leave and we’ll take you out. Try to hurt someone and we’ll take you out. Try to bring someone or something into the tower and we’ll take you out. Questions?” 

“He’s like Madeye, but way worse,” Ginny muttered, drawing a shocked laugh from Hermione. One eye, completely paranoid and gruff. He really was like this world’s Alastor Moody.

“I said, are there any questions!” the man shouted, hands on his hips.

Hermione couldn’t help but giggle at the sight he made, a long leather duster and an angry expression.

“Yes, I have one. Do you live here too?” Ginny asked, drawing snickers from across the room.

“Get the fuck out!” Fury shouted, flicking a hand towards them that had Hermione flinching before she remembered he was a muggle.

“Follow me, Sanderson sisters!” Tony called out.

“The air quality here is quite different than what I’m used to. Where are we?” Luna asked.

Tony didn’t look at her weirdly, which Hermione appreciated. After the Looney gaffe of fifth year, she’d done her best to mend her relationship with the Ravenclaw. Thankfully, Luna was much more forgiving than any of them deserved. The girl, woman, had done her part in the war, crafting some of the most dastardly spells and potions that Hermione had ever seen in order to take out Death Eaters. She hoped that their new life would give Luna the chance to relax; Lord knows they needed it.

“New York City,” Tony replied.

Hermione’s eyes lit up. “We’re in New York? When you say tower… are we in one of the Twin Towers?”

The man made a choking noise that was echoed by the redhead and shorter blond man. 

“Um… no. You have a lot to catch up on in terms of the past 20 years, but no. We’ll get to that on a different day,” Tony replied much more subdued than they’d experienced.

“What about the M&M store? I’ve always wanted to go,” Hermione said wistfully.

“Ugh, so classless. What is wrong with tourists,” Tony groaned. “Tell you what, when you jailbreak, I’ll let Clint take you to the M&M store.”

“Hell yeah!” the shorter blond, Clint, exclaimed. “It’s even better than you’d think; they can print your face on M&Ms.”

“What are eminems?” Luna asked curiously.

“M and Ms. Like the letter, but with and,” Clint explained with as much seriousness as one taught long division. “It’s a candy, I’m sure we have some you can try.”

“No,” Hermione replied, shaking her head so quickly she got dizzy as they got off the elevator. “We haven’t eaten real food in months, she’ll puke if she eats chocolate.”

“Cap, you’ve got mother henning competition,” the redhead mused, a slight smile on her face.

“What is your name?” Hermione asked.

The redhead looked at her consideringly, as though she could peer into her soul, before replying. 

“Natasha.”

“Nice to meet you, Natasha,” Hermione replied politely, keeping it short. She got an uneasy feeling from the woman. Perhaps it was because she was far less open than her goofy alleged teammates, but whatever it was, she would steer clear of the woman until something changed.

“Likewise.”

“Here we are on the common floor! Right back to where you fell into our lives, sans blood and a dead old bigot.”

“Thanks for killing him,” Ginny replied gratefully.

“You’re welcome,” Natasha purred, a vindictive smile on her face. “Nothing more gratifying than killing a dirty old man.”

“Our most valiant sister in arms,” the large, foreign sounding blond man said, speaking up for one of the first times.

“How did you get to this planet, your majesty?” Luna asked all of a sudden, eyes wide in what Hermione thought to be reverence.

“Please, call me Thor, young witch. It’s quite the long story, one best told with a mug of hot chocolate and soft pajamas.”

“We have nothing,” Hermione whispered all of a sudden, gripping her curls in her hair as she let out a hysterical laugh despite her company. No clothes, no money, no wands, no books… nothing. And none of it had come with her besides her wand that she wasn’t even allowed to have.

Much like she had countless times through her time at Hogwarts, Hermione blacked out in the panic that overtook her mind. The biggest burden of being intelligent was the way her mind raced constantly, but in times of panic, it’s like she went blank except for the overwhelming feeling of dread.

Hermione let out a sigh as she blinked back into her very odd, very dark new reality. She was sitting on a couch with a body pressed to each side and Bucky and Steve kneeling in front of her. 

Instead of focusing on the dread of having nothing in a world where magic didn’t even exist, her eyes were drawn to Steve’s newly unmasked face. He was gorgeous and everything she knew Americans fantasized about. Hermione honestly couldn’t imagine a hotter pair of opposite looking men then the ones in front of her. Steve’s sharp, clean features and Bucky’s grizzled handsomeness. They were pretty close to perfect in her book, if she were being honest.

“You’ve gotta get some sleep, dolly,” Bucky murmured, eyes full of concern. “You all do.”

His acknowledgement of Luna and Ginny had the muggleborn blushing and remembering that she wasn’t alone with the handsome duo of costumed men. 

“Let’s go take a bath,” Luna suggested quietly. “Tony said they have coloured bubbles that smell nice.”

“It’s true!”

Hermione shook her head, unable to hide her smile. She wished she could be a person who delighted in tiny things, alas… she was far too logical for that.

“You three will sleep on the common floor, but the rest of us have our own floors. It doesn’t make much sense, but you can talk to the ceiling if you need anything at all,” Steve informed them.

Hermione was confused, and assumed the other two were as well.

“Cap with the bad explanation,” Tony sighed, walking into the room with a glass of water. “I have a butler named Jarvis, and he’s programmed to listen whenever someone calls his name. Right, Jarv?”

“That’s quite right, sir,” a detached, British voice said.

“A Brit!” Hermione beamed, feeling more awake.

“Indeed, Miss Granger. It’s my pleasure to have some of my countrymen here.”

“Where are you?” she asked, looking around.

“I am everywhere, Miss Granger.”

“He’s not joking,” Tony promised. “Just go take a bath, get dressed, and for God’s sake, brush your teeth. I need to see what we’re working with before I call in my good dentist from LA.”

“My parents were dentists,” Hermione said quietly, heart pounding painfully in her chest.

“Smart people, I hear they’re few and far between on the other side of the pond,” Tony replied, a bit kinder than she’d ever heard him. “I need to go kiss my lovely wife goodnight before she locks me out of the tower. Holler if you need me, girls. Just… try not to need me.”

“Thanks for making us feel so welcome,” Luna replied earnestly, standing up and genially waving goodnight to the man.

“Your bedrooms are down this way,” Steve said, standing up in his weird, American flag suit.

“We’ll stay together,” Hermione said, feeling confident that no one would object to that.

“That works too,” Steve agreed easily. “Then you won’t have to fight over the master bedroom. Tasha should be back shortly with some clothes, she’ll leave them on the bed. Do you need anything else?”

“No, we’re all set. Thank you, Steve and Bucky. We appreciate your hospitality,” Hermione smiled, allowing Luna to wave goodnight before she shut the door.

“Should we blockade the door?” Ginny asked quietly, sizing up the furniture.

“They’ll be able to get in,” Hermione sighed. “All we can do is take them at their word and stick together.” 

“You forgot fight like hell if they try anything,” Ginny growled, her brown eyes narrowing in a way that made Hermione uneasy. An angry Weasley was never a good thing.

“We’ll be okay, Gin,” Hermione promised as softly as she could. She knew her friend was a bit of a hothead and wanted nothing more than for her to calm down. The last thing that they needed was to be locked up in metal boxes again.

“Oh, this will lift your spirits,” Luna called out, voice echoing inside what Hermione guessed was the bathroom.

“Bloody hell, it’s bigger than the prefect’s bath!” Ginny crowed, a devilishly pleased smile on her face. “Pool party?”

“Pool party,” Hermione and Luna replied at the same time. For the first time in a long time, they smiled.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who's reading this wacky crossover! Expect a lot of fluff going forward. Please let me know your thoughts!! I have no beta, let me know if you see any errors and I'll fix them!

Hermione spent the first thirteen days with the Avengers waiting for the other shoe to drop. Unlike Ginny, she was unable to relax in the presence of strangers, not when she knew that she was relied on to keep them safe, whether the blonde and redhead knew it or not.

And unlike Luna, Hermione had no sixth sense to tap into, just the same fight or flight instincts that had propelled her through Voldemort’s reign while almost everyone they knew died.

So she was on edge; tired; hungry… unwilling to trust anyone, not even the British voice in the ceiling.

“Dolly,” a low voice said, causing Hermione to jump. She hated that everyone who lived here had the rare ability to catch her unaware. Being caught by surprise meant capture, torture and death. It meant Ginny and Luna’s death. As hard as she tried, though, she was at the end of her rope.

“Mr. Barnes,” Hermione greeted.

The man chuckled, throwing himself into the chair across from her. Hermione found herself stationed most nights at the common floor’s dining room table, surrounded by newspapers, books and documents that were slowly bringing her up to date on the world they were in and the time they were in. 

She spent most of her time frustrated at the fact that not only were they in a completely different world where Hogwarts didn’t exist, but one that was lightyears ahead of her own in technological advancements. Most at the hands of the very man who owned the tower she was in, she found out.

“Bucky or James if you must, my girl. When’d you last sleep?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Hermione replied.

“Reading ain’t gonna keep you alive if you find yourself exhausted and starving in the face of an enemy. You act so scared of us, then you run yourself ragged and leave yourself vulnerable? There’s no logic in that.”

Hermione sat up straight, eyes widening at the man comically before narrowing. How hadn’t she thought of that?

“Is that a threat?”

The man raised his hands in placation, “No, it’s not. I’m just trying to coax you into getting some rest…”

“The girls need their sleep,” Hermione replied quietly. “They’re still recuperating.”

“So are you, Hermione,” James replied, as serious as she’s ever seen him. “Take it from another prisoner of war… you need to get your sleep.”

The weight of everything that was above her head toppled at that moment, leaving her feeling far more vulnerable than she ever wanted to in front of anyone in this world. Being so emotional while also being extremely logical was a double-edged sword that Hermione never seemed to handle correctly; it always left her blind. 

So she started to cry, more like sob very unattractively. Not that anything about her look screamed beauty, now or ever. She had no idea what hair products for curly-haired women existed in this world, and didn’t care to ask. Nice hair was the least of her worries when she was trying to keep her girls alive.

“There ya go,” the man murmured.

“Buck?” a voice asked, full of loud concern. Hermione jumped at it, red, wet eyes turning to see a bearded and pajamas wearing Steve behind her. “Hermione, are you okay?”

“We’re just fine…” Bucky replied, smirking at the way Steve kneeled down next to the perceived damsel in distress. The man could never leave a pretty lady who was in pain without trying to fix it.

“Did he hurt you?” Steve asked, squinting at Bucky and turning back to Hermione.

The muggleborn let out a surprised laugh, shaking her head.

“I’m okay,” Hermione replied, such a weak effort that neither men would believe her even if they didn’t know her. As much as she clearly believed differently, Hermione was comically easy to read.

“No, doll, I don’t think you are,” Steve replied, standing up and sitting next to her at the long table. “Why don’t you go get some sleep?”

“I can’t, not until Luna and Ginny are back to rights.” 

For some reason, Hermione trusted these two. Bucky had taken it upon himself to share his horrific life story with her, and she was grateful for it. 

Grateful to know that she could trust that his actions weren’t a ruse; he wasn’t going to rape them like Voldemort had planned… he was fully healed, both mentally and physically, praise God. The man was honest in a way she hadn’t quite experienced from anyone else except Ron, putting that on account of him being an American, but it allowed her to ease slightly in his and Steve’s presences.

“You said you trust us, right? What if we stay and watch over you girls?” Bucky asked. “I’ll even bring my machine gun, no one will get close. And if they do… you’ll hear them die.”

“Bucky,” Steve chastised, rolling his eyes. “What he means to say is that we’ll keep you safe. Even from the others, not that you have any reason to distrust them. But we get it, okay? We get it… we’ve been strangers to this world, and us two are keen to distrust newcomers, much like you. Can you trust us?”

Hermione ran through all of the possibilities in her head before nodding, shoulders slumped in defeat. She had no wand, no weapon. The voice in the ceiling had even alerted someone when she’d taken the butcher’s knife from the knife block. 

She had nothing but her mind and very weak wandless magic in an unfamiliar world. There was nothing she could do if she were going to be attacked, so why not at least die while sleeping soundly?

“Atta girl,” Bucky smiled. “Up you get, into bed. I’ll take the first shift, Stevie will start on breakfast for when your girls get up.”

Hermione found herself standing immediately. Both men had a confident command in their voices that took grasp of her most times they spoke, for whatever reason. Maybe it was because most men she knew relied on her; most people she knew relied on her, rather, so… having competent men around was a relief. 

Were they to be trusted? That remained to be seen, but as Hermione curled up into bed against Luna as Bucky watched before closing the door, she didn’t care. She was finally going to sleep.

xxxxxxxxx

Dreamless sleep was a blessing, and Hermione didn’t wake up until a cacophony of voices slowly pulled her out of a heavy darkness.

“Oh, thank Merlin!” Ginny cried, causing Hermione some confusion. What was going on?

“What…” Hermione mumbled, dry tongue stuck to the similarly dry roof of her mouth. 

“Ginny being Ginny,” Luna sighed. The gentle hand that moved to scratch her scalp could only be Luna; Ginny wouldn’t know gentle if it smacked her in the face.

“Mmm…” Hermione replied, turning to snuggle in towards the hand that was moving so soothingly over her head. It’d been so long without physical touch, ever since the boys…

Hermione sat up with a gasp, taking Luna’s hand with her. Not that she cared about her hair. She was on edge at the sight of a dark-haired man smiling awkwardly, while Steve stood appraisingly in the door.

“Hi there, my name is Bruce.”

“Bruce is what they call a doctor,” Luna replied with a smile, removing her hand from Hermione’s matted curls.

“I’m not that kind of… nevermind,” the man, Bruce said. “Your friend was worried that you were sleeping too long, so I, er, came up to see…” 

“I’m okay,” Hermione sighed, resting her cheek on her knee. Whatever else Tony Stark was, he was generous. The bed and duvet were more comfortable than anything she’d ever experienced, and she could sleep there forever.

“I’m thinking we may want to give you all exams down at the med bay.”

“That’s a good idea,” Steve piped up for the first time. “Why don’t you all shower, then we can head down after lunch?”

“What’s a med bay?” Ginny asked, dark eyes untrusting.

“It’s like Mungos,” Hermione yawned, sitting up and shaking herself awake. “That’s fine… just let us get dressed then we’ll meet you in the living room.”

“Sounds good, girls,” Steve smiled, shutting the door after the doctor walked out.

“What’d I miss?” Hermione asked as they stood up, all undressing to hop into the large shower together. There was no modesty at this point; not when they were the only family they had left in the world. Not when all of their bodies bore the same scars from war.

“I don’t think they’re going to kill us,” Ginny said plainly. Hermione noticed immediately that the shower was filled with far more products than before. “Oh, and Nat got us shampoo and conditioner… Did you know that muggles have products specifically for different hair types? Look, it’s redhead shampoo! Not sure what it bloody does for me, but my hair is so soft.”

“She picked you up some curly shampoo, Hermione. One that her friend recommends,” Luna smiled, handing her a white bottle with red swirls all over it.

Hermione didn’t hesitate to put a glob into her hair and scrub, knowing her hair was in dire need of a reset.

“Why are you so certain they can be trusted?” Hermione asked quietly.

“They’re all fucked up,” Ginny said simply. “Every last one of them. They may be heroes in this world, but they’re broken. Dead family members, torture, injuries… we fit right in.”

“She’s right,” Luna agreed. “Even I was thrown off a bit with the sunshiney aura of this tower… there's darkness in all of them. It’s just been healed by time and love.”

“Right,” Hermione snorted.

“If you allow yourself to be open, maybe you’d see the same,” Luna smiled. “There’s something for all of us here…”

“Like what?” Hermione retorted, getting slightly annoyed in her grumpy, half-asleep state with Luna’s ominous statements.

“Safety, stability, love, protection… fulfillment.”

“Hopefully sex,” Ginny replied with a bark of laughter. “I thought I was going to die a virgin.”

“We all did.”

Ginny’s eyes widened at that.

“Hermione, you and… you never?”

Hermione swallowed around her tightening throat.

“No… just kissing. We never had time,” she whispered into the steady thrum of falling water.

The redhead let out a sob, running a hand over her eyes. “They died virgins… bloody hero virgins.”

“They died loved,” Luna smiled gently, lips wobbling slightly. “And they will live on being extremely loved in our memories… We have a lot of people to live for, we might as well do it well.”

“Cheers to that,” Ginny nodded, letting out another sob. “How are we supposed to do this?”

“We just have to try,” Hermione said quietly, confidence building like a snowball rolling down a hill. Tentative, but more grounded with every bit of momentum. “I know I’m not the easiest to get along with, but I’ll try… for everyone we’ve left behind.”

“That’s all we can ask,” Luna smiled. “There’s love here for us, all kinds of love.”

Hermione was surprised to find out that Luna and Ginny now had clothes that fit them. Apparently Tony’s wife, Pepper, was a godsend. The pair had a six-year-old girl who was overjoyed to see them trying on clothes when Pepper had given them a few sizes to try on, which led a indulgent Tony to hire a team of personal shoppers to interview the girls for their personal styles then bring over countless racks of clothes for a fashion show. Rich people were wild.

The muggleborn shook her head rapidly when Ginny shared that Tony promised to do the same once she’d woken up.

“No thanks… these sweats are fine. I can’t fathom putting on jeans again, I don’t think. How long did I sleep?”

“A little over five days… surprised it wasn’t more, honestly,” Ginny said with a knowing glance. “Don’t stay awake for us ever again, okay? You don’t owe us anything.”

Hermione only shook her head before gasping.

“Wait… the timer. Didn’t Voldemort say he expected Nott back?”

Luna nodded. “Looks like there are three days left on the timer… we’ll be ready when he’s here.”

“They’re giving us our wands back?”

“If we need them,” Luna shrugged. “The Avengers are quite competent, really.”

Hermione shook her wet curls, moving to head into the living space and hoping someone would be there to yell at.

“Winifred, thought you’d gone the way of your movie counterpart,” Tony Stark said, a little girl who looked exactly like him, only far cuter, sat on his lap.

“Can I speak to you privately?”

The man shook his head at the angry looking woman. He had one of those in his life already, he didn’t need another. “Absolutely not. Agent is here, though, you can speak to him.”

Phil, from the interrogation, popped his head out of the kitchen as though he was listening.

“Miss? May I help you?” the man asked dryly. 

“You can,” Hermione stormed into the kitchen, not surprised to see Steve and Bucky in command of lunch. Sandwiches, it looked like. “Are you out of your mind? You think you can handle Voldemort and whoever he brings without our help?”

“Yes,” Phil replied calmly.

So calm that Hermione’s hair started crackling. Feeling so out of sorts, so helpless, Hermione couldn’t help but let out a frustrated shriek.

“Screaming isn’t going to help,” the man said, sounding just as apathetic as Professor Snape.

Before Hermione could physically shake sense into him, which, to be fair, was her only option without a wand, Steve came over and blocked her path with his ginormous body. Who gave him the right to have such nice pectorals directly in her line of sight?

“Woah, there,” the man said calmly, placing a large, gentle hand on her right shoulder. “Why don’t we talk about this?”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Captain,” Phil said. Straightening his jacket and moving to walk out of the large kitchen.

“Stay,” Steve directed, command laced in every inch of his tone. Phil, to his credit, stayed, though he didn’t look happy about it. “We’re going to talk about this when Morgan isn’t here, okay? Let’s just get through breakfast. I know you’re under a lot of stress, Hermione… can you get through a meal?”

The girl bristled in annoyance at the way he was talking to her, but nodded. He was the only one who was even partly on her side, so she’d need to take it.

“Can I help with lunch?” she asked politely, happy to see Phil walk out.

“No ma’am,” Steve replied. “Why don’t you go grab yourself a seat, there’s a pitcher of lemonade out there.”

“Thank you,” Hermione smiled tightly, turning to exit the room and head to the table that was filling up with familiar faces and some strangers.

She was introduced to Pepper and Morgan, Tony’s wife and daughter as well as Sam Wilson.

“I’m… how many people live here?” Hermione asked, receiving snorts from around the table.

“A hell of a lot of strays,” Sam smiled, his gap-toothed grin making him look even more friendly than before. He ignored Pepper’s glare at his language.

“Thor gave me something called a Poptart last night after I remembered everyone’s names,” Luna smiled, moving to sit down on Hermione’s left. “Tony said I deserve something called a gold star for my efforts.”

Hermione groaned, looking up at the man.

“Do you find joy in making fun of people who don’t know better?”

“I’m not making fun of anyone,” Tony replied, shaking his head innocently. “I’m only expanding their knowledge.”

“In order to do that, you need to explain your jokes and references!”

“Dolly’s right,” Bucky cut in, carrying two large trays of sandwiches in his hands like they weighed nothing. “Steve, Thor and I have suffered enough for your amusement, why don’t you leave these lovely ladies alone?”

“I’m an equal opportunity offender,” Tony shrugged, smacking a kiss on his daughter’s head.

“Try harder, Tony,” Pepper sighed, shaking her head. 

Steve placed a large salad down, and Hermione let out a pleased sigh at the sight of it. Something green… how long had it been since she last had something green?

“Do you and the salad need to find another room?” one of the blonds, Clint, asked with an amused smirk.

Hermione blushed a bit, rolling her eyes. “I haven’t had a salad in years…”

Steve plated up a large portion of salad for Hermione before she’d even finished her sentence.

“There you are, no one ever appreciates my salads,” Steve winked, placing the tongs down and moving to sit down. Hermione noticed that he didn’t serve anyone else, but shook it off as she dug into the salad.

“Rude,” Tony scoffed. “We haven’t even said our family prayer.”

Hermione almost spat out her glorious bite of salad.

“I’m so sorry, how rude of me!” Hermione said, immediately closing her eyes and bowed her head much like she did when she was younger.

“Oh, Tony… he’s pulling your leg, miss.” Bruce groaned.

She opened her eyes and saw that everyone was grabbing sandwiches from the two platters, shaking their heads at Tony.

“You’re mean, daddy!” the little girl on Tony’s lap chastised, shaking her head.

“He is being mean, you’re right,” Pepper agreed, shooting Hermione an apologetic smile.

Hermione just shook it off, eating and trying her best not to be embarrassed. She’d read a book about university in America, what’d they call this when it took place in student organizations? Hazing? She was definitely being hazed.

The girl was quiet through the meal, allowing Luna and Ginny to share what meals had been like at Hogwarts. They were shocked to discover that pumpkin juice wasn’t a thing in the muggle world, Ginny being more sad than the others. 

Thor started to describe all of the different frozen juices that were available at what he called a 7-eleven, which Hermione’d never heard of. America was vastly different from England, and 2020 in this world was vastly different from the 1990s. For someone who loved to learn and felt anxious being out of their depths… Hermione was anxious about a lot right now.

Lunch, thankfully, wasn’t a long affair. No one seemed to move when they were finished eating, though, clearly all having eavesdropped on the fight that’d occurred in the kitchen. Hermione was quickly discovering just how nosy and intertwined everyone here was. They weren’t a cult, no, but they all knew everything about each other. It was unsettling.

“Morg, why don’t you and mommy go upstairs for a bit?” Tony suggested, looking surprised at how quickly the girl hopped off his lap and moved to the elevator.

Pepper smiled as she left, pressing a hand to her husband’s shoulder and walking away.

“Wow, was that easy. I was almost hoping she’d want me to come with her,” Tony mumbled, though everyone could hear it.

“Why so tense, all?” Thor asked, voice booming.

“Miss Granger is upset that the witches aren’t included in our plans for if and when more time travelers come,” Phil said.

The god’s face scrunched up in confusion. “Why wouldn’t they fight? Don’t they know the magic and personalities of these enemies more than we?”

“Exactly!” Ginny exclaimed, nodding.

“I’ll put it plainly for you girls,” Phil said, drawing narrowed eyes all around the room at the way he addressed them. It was clear he thought they were no more than silly girls, and his words proved it. “We do not know you, and we do not trust you to fight alongside our people. This team has trained together for years, we cannot have a foreign army come and have three outliers get in our way.”

“You don’t have magic,” Hermione replied, trying to hide the tremor in her voice at being overruled. Why was it that she cried so easily when frustrated or angry? Didn’t her brain know that tears took away from an argument? “They will overpower you with their magic… people will die.”

“That’s a chance that we always take,” Phil replied, shrugging his shoulders as though dying was as simple a choice as a bubble bath on a Saturday night. “We’ve fought magic-users many times and come out on top.

“He won’t die,” Hermione replied, shaking her head. “Voldemort… he won’t die.”

“How are you so sure?” Natasha asked.

“He has something called a horcrux… part of his soul was put into a necklace for protection. It ensures he won’t die if he’s killed, not until we destroy the necklace. All of the others are gone besides the necklace that he wears.”

“The others?” Bucky asked, brow furrowed.

“Seven… there were seven,” Luna said quietly.

“What kind of whacko rips their soul into pieces?” Clint asked with wide eyes.

“The kind who’d kill all of you without second thought,” Hermione replied. “He killed everyone we love, his own people… he won’t think twice about sending you to the grave right alongside them.”

“How do we destroy the necklace? I’m assuming it isn’t just throwing it into a fire and calling it a day?” Tony asked.

Hermione gave him an approving smile. It was nice to have genuinely intelligent people around, no matter how rude. “You’re right… I am unsure of what muggle items could destroy a horcrux, we had a basilisk’s fang that we used.”

“A basilisk, you say?” Thor asked, standing up. “We have such serpent kings back in Asgard… I will return with a fang.”

Hermione, Luna and Ginny let out gasps. 

“There’s one in need of redemption who must come,” Luna replied softly, standing up to take Thor’s large forearm into her hand. “He must be here for the battle.”

Thor bowed, pressing a kiss onto Luna’s hand. “As you command, Völva. I will be back before nightfall.”

Luna sat back down, ignoring all of the strange looks that she was receiving.

Ginny and Hermione shared a meaningful look, knowing just how important it was to heed Luna’s gentle commands. The woman knew more than anyone ever expected her to, and her airiness was a good disguise for what lay underneath. No one should underestimate Luna Lovegood.

“I think that some coordination is necessary here, Phil,” Steve said, using the voice that Hermione now identified as his work voice. “The ladies are right, we don’t know what we’re walking into, and they have the answers. I understand your hesitancy, but we have no reason not to trust their intel.”

Phil sighed, “Of course, captain. Why don’t we move to the conference room and discuss?”

Hermione noticed Steve’s satisfied smirk out of the corner of her eye and made a mental note to ask about it later.

She’d never been a people person, and all of the interpersonal dynamics she had to navigate were giving her a headache.

xxxxxxxxx

Hermione was enjoying the Mediterannean spread that had been ordered for dinner, piling up foods she’d never seen on her plate while Bucky explained what they were from next to her.

“How do they make this?” she asked, eyes wide.

“Not sure, darling,” Bucky smiled, eyes glazed over at the thick white garlic dip that she was licking off a spoon instead of smearing onto a pita like everyone else. 

Tony hid a smirk at the interaction, knowing at least a bit about self control and propriety. Pepper had taught him well.

“How’s it fair that we had nothing like this!” Ginny fumed, spilling food back all over her plate while trying to shove an overflowing pita into her mouth.

“This is only the beginning,” Natasha promised. “You haven’t even tried dim sum yet.”

“I love food, it tells you so much about a place,” Luna smiled, popping a cherry tomato into her mouth.

“Prince Thor has re-entered the atmosphere,” the British voice in the ceiling said. “He is not alone.”

“Aw, shit,” Clint groaned, standing up and looking at his plate longingly.

“You stay,” Steve said, pushing back from the table and his massive plate of food. “Tony and I will handle it.”

“Should I call Phil?” Natasha asked, raising an eyebrow like she didn’t care either way.

“Not yet,” Steve replied, moving to grab the shield that was hung on the wall near the elevator. 

“Meet you on the roof, Cap,” Tony said, running towards a large window.

The three girls screamed as the man jumped out of the window at a jog, only to let out noises of awe as the robot from a few days ago flew into the air.

“He did that on purpose,” Sam said, shaking his head and continuing to eat as though he was above the fray. Honestly, from what Hermione could tell, he was.

“This place is so weird,” Ginny said.

“You’ll get used to it… eventually,” Natasha replied, sounding much warmer than Hermione had heard. Ginny smiled back at her fellow redhead.

Luna stood up from the table suddenly, moving towards the elevator that dinged open a moment later.

Hermione’s heart stopped at the way she moved in front of a very tall, black-haired man just as everyone in the room besides Bruce pulled out a gun and held it up towards him.

“What the hell!” Ginny shouted.

“What the fuck is he doing here?” Clint growled, sounding serious for the first time that Hermione had heard.

“My brother comes in peace!” Thor promised, clapping a hand onto the other man’s shoulder. Tony had a suited arm with a large light pointed at the back of the newcomer’s head, while Steve was in a fighting position.

“That’s extremely unlikely,” Steve replied.

“He comes in peace...” Luna replied, placing a delicate hand on the stranger’s wrist.. The man looked down at the tall, lithe witch who was still far shorter than him. Hermione wasn’t the only one to notice the way that he didn’t shake off her arm.

“Is this some freaky witch juju?” Tony asked, voice robotic through his suit. Hermione had a lot of questions about how he was in there, how it worked, just… everything.

“Hey! Watch your mouth,” Ginny replied.

“The young witch is a seer, a Völva,” Thor explained as though everyone would understand. “She has powers of sight, prized among my people.”

“That’s well and good, but this is Loki. The same guy who tried to destroy our world just a few years ago.”

“His vision was clouded,” Luna replied, blue eyes wide and dreamy. “He is back in control of himself now.”

“The young witch is right,” the man said, speaking up for the first time in a crisp, regal voice. He wouldn’t sound out of place in Buckingham Palace, Hermione thought. “Thanos controlled my mind… I killed him for his transgression, but I swear to you that I was not in control during the attack. Which I’ve told you on the five occasions that I’ve visited midgard.”

“Too little, too late,” Clint muttered.

“That’s all well and good, but what now?” Bucky asked, irritated with the back and forth that always seemed to occur with this group of people.

“My brother wields magic like no other, he will help us take down this evil army once and for all.”

Tony groaned, a noise sounding as the face shield of his suit folded back to show an annoyed man.

“Fury is gonna have you for dinner, Thor.”

The beefy god shrugged. “So be it. We are here to help, we have retrieved the serpent king’s fang for our fearless new friends… if Fury is so intent on defeating evil, why is he not here to help strategize?”

Hermione let out a giggle at that, agreeing wholeheartedly with the god.

“I’m not telling him,” Tony replied with a shake of his head. “Seriously… I’m not telling him.”

“Just go up to your wife and kid,” Bucky said. “We’ve got this under control.”

“Out of the elevator, scram,” Tony directed, heading upstairs without another word as the lift doors slid shut.

“Miss, it’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” the newcomer murmured in a silky smooth voice, pressing a kiss over Luna’s right hand. “My name is Loki, may I know how to address a woman so beautiful?”

Luna smiled shyly. Luna… shy? Hermione felt like she was in an alternate universe. Well, she was, but you know what she means.

“I’ve known this day was coming, not that I expected such an abrupt meeting,” Luna replied. “My name is Luna Lovegood.”

“Luna,” Loki purred. “Why don’t we further acquaint ourselves in private?”

“Absolutely not!”

“No!”

Hermione and Steve shouted at the same time.

Luna simply shrugged, pulling Loki over to sit down in the chairs that Tony and Pepper had vacated what seemed like hours before.

Thor looked surprised and pleased at how amenable his brother was to the blonde’s whims. Meanwhile, everyone else was staring as though they were aliens. Which, to be fair, they technically were.

“So… what? We’re just going to bring an interdimensional mass-murder in on our plan to kill a wannabe interdimensional mass-murderer?” Clint asked, chugging a glass of lemonade like it was something far stronger.

“What do you have to lose other than your lives?” Ginny asked.

Natasha gave her an appraising look.

“Why are you here, Loki?” the older redhead asked.

“The same reason as all of you… to seek justice and universal peace.” Loki replied as though it was simple.

“How are we supposed to buy that?” Bruce asked.

“Allow me to fight and you’ll see,” Loki shrugged, eying the spread of food with slight interest. 

Hermione knew no one cared about her opinion, but couldn’t help herself.

“Thor said he wields magic… if you won’t let us fight, you’ll need him on your side.” 

Everyone turned to stare at her.

“Talk about two awful options,” Clint muttered, though everyone could hear.

“You act as though we’re the scum of the earth! What did we ever do to you?” Ginny spat, face turning as red as her hair.

“Why would we trust you without knowing you?” Clint replied. “Didn’t your parents ever teach you stranger danger?”

Ginny gave him a weird look. “I don’t even want to know what that means. Trust us or trust him. Trust all of us, and the fight will be over without a fuss. Trust none of us and we’ll all be dead. Your choice.”

Bucky groaned. “So much angst. Stevie, just talk to Phil. They’re all gonna fight, then we’ll celebrate world peace while we have it.”

Steve looked at the long-haired man for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“Everyone, clear the table then head to your floors. Thor, you’ll take Loki and JARVIS will lock down your floor for obvious reasons,” Steve commanded, shield still in hand.

Hermione was impressed by the way the entirety of the table followed his instructions immediately. It was like the man was born to lead; she couldn’t help but wonder if they would’ve won the war if they had someone charismatic and level-headed like Steve on their side. Many nights, she’d found herself wondering what would’ve happened if Dumbledore was younger and more firmly planted in reality… would they have won then? He had, of course, fumbled in the first war, so she had low hopes for the second. The man’s ego was the death of him and so many others, and it looked like that’s what separated Steve from other leaders here.

“You good, doll?” Bucky asked with a concerned look as Hermione focused on placing the sandwiches into glass tupperware. 

She jumped a bit at the sound of his voice. The man was quite adept at sneaking up on people.

“Of course,” Hermione replied, pulling a salami-filled sandwich out at the last second and keeping the caprese sandwiches together. There was so much room in the refrigerator that it’d be easy to keep them separate and label them with the little pieces of paper that Clint said were called sticky notes. She wrote caprese sandwiches on a little yellow note before placing it onto the glass tupperware.

“Try to actually convince me next time,” Bucky chuckled. “You’ll be okay… all of us will. Stevie’s got everyone well in check, you’ll fight then we’ll go back to normal.”

Hermione smiled tightly at the large man, hands still working. “I’m not quite sure what normal is, Bucky.”

“Me neither, doll. Maybe we can work on that together.”

A small fluttering taking place in her stomach, Hermione nodded. Normal sounded nice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comments keep me writing - let me know your thoughts and characters / interactions you'd like to see! :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for the nice comments!! Hope you enjoy :) Please let me know what you think.

“I feel like a lady of the night,” Ginny said, turning to stare at her bum in the mirror. “Wow… when I gain some weight back, I’ll be fit as fuck. Who knew.”

“Ginny!” Hermione admonished, turning to look at Natasha who was smirking at Ginny. “Can we make these looser? I don’t see any point to having a second skin on.”

“Would you rather someone grab your sleeve and slit your throat?” the woman asked, looking unimpressed. “No one’s going to be looking at your body during a battle… trust me.”

“Maybe before, though,” Luna shrugged, turning to look at her own body. 

Why did this tower have a literal runway with walls of mirrors? Tony Stark had serious problems, Hermione was coming to find out.

Where Ginny had a tiny waist that swung out to wide hips, muscular thighs and large breasts, Luna had long, thin legs and a narrow waist. Hermione couldn’t help but feel inferior in the presence of the two coveted female body types; she had hips and a small waist, but she was scrawny and flat-chested. Insecurity instead of sadness flooded her chest as Ron’s constant teasing about not seeing her as a girl came to mind. She didn’t blame him, honestly, not when they were surrounded by far more beautiful representations of the female body.

“Can we change back now?” Hermione asked. Their supposed uniforms were three-quarter sleeve leather-like shirts with skin tight leather pants, though they could move as though wearing cotton. The outfit was comfortable, sure, but Hermione had never worn something so tight and never wanted to. The idea of anyone glancing at her and knowing essentially what was under her clothes was hard to stomach.

Besides that, Ginny had forced her to go back into the changing room and take off her underwear, telling her that she had to forgo them or her underwear lines would distract the team from winning. She’d almost cried of embarrassment when she’d heard that.

“Sir says he will be right back,” JARVIS said, always listening.

“You look good, Hermione,” Ginny smiled. “I wish I was as short as you, I feel like a giant.”

“If you’re a giant, what does that make me?” Luna asked from where she stood about 3 inches taller than the redheaded witch.

“I think you all need to get a grip,” Natasha sighed with an eyeroll. “You all look good, but that’s not the point of uniforms. No one is going to be looking at you, and even if they do, just use your magic wand to shut them up.”

Ginny snorted, “Depending on who it is, I’m more likely to kill them.”

Natasha looked curious at that. “You’ve killed people?”

“Not at first… I mean, I was 15 the first time I was attacked by grown men. When Voldemort won and my family was gone, there was no reason to abide by a moral code, not when our attackers didn’t.” Ginny’s eyes grew cold as she spoke, thinking about the way that everyone was gone in a matter of months.

Hermione had felt guilty after Charlie’s death as she thought about her irritation at just how many Weasleys there were, the way she’d once muttered to herself about wishing Molly and Arthur had less kids so the Burrow would be just a bit quieter. She got what she wished for in the worst way, not that she’d ever tell Ginny that.

“You won’t find anyone chiding you here for protecting yourselves,” Natasha replied. “The trail of blood stemming from all of us is longer than you’d think.”

“Some people deserve to die,” Luna said serenely. “Daddy advocated for peace, but I know he’d want me alive even if that meant killing others.”

Hermione thought about the faceless people she’d killed, stomach curdling. She also reminisced on how she’d killed Lucius Malfoy herself, having the privilege of watching his throat bleed out. An avada was far too compassionate for a man who’d allowed his wife and son to die just to cover his own cowardly behind. She hoped that Draco and Narcissa were proud, wherever they were.

“We trading kill counts?” Tony asked, walking down with a large box in his hands.

“You win, we know,” Natasha said with an eyeroll.

“I’d rather not thinking about that, but you’re right. I do win. Here, I have some goggles for you witches. Would rather not have you taken out by smoke or shrapnel in your eyes,” Tony said, handing over sleek, clear eyeglasses.

Hermione gasped as she tried them on and they suction-cupped to her face without feeling obtrusive.

“Nice,” Tony smiled, looking proud of himself. “Smoke, poison, gas, bullets… nothing can get through there and mess with your eyesight. Newly designed by my most favorite intern.”

“Tell him they’re lovely,” Luna smiled, sticking her face in the mirror to see if they were truly suctioned to her face. “These would be helpful for picking aquatic plants… no mercreatures could attack your face with these on.”

Tony gave her a weird look. “Let me know when you’re planning to pick aquatic plants, Elsa, and I’ll make you a face shield. There will be no face attacks on my watch.”

“Thank you,” Luna smiled.

“Where is Peter anyways?” Natasha asked.

Tony snorted, “Church camp, he’s the head counselor. Can you even believe?”

Natasha nodded with a small smile, “I can believe.”

“Everyone good? Comfortable?” Tony asked suddenly, looking critically at the outfits without a hint of longing in his eyes as he stared at the scantily clad witches. Hermione respected him more for it.

“I love it,” Ginny smiled warmly. Hermione’s stomach sank further at watching how easily both Ginny and Luna could warm up to new people and weave themselves into a new social fabric like it was akin to breathing. She took a deep breath, trying not to think of a troll, a redhead, a glasses wearing boy, and a crying, lonely girl, but that’s where she always ended up. She had no skills when it came to making lasting relationships, it didn’t come naturally to her and never would.

“Thanks, red,” Tony smiled. “I forgot how nice it was to have grateful people in the tower. Don’t become too used to my kindness, okay?”

Ginny snorted, “Bruv, I grew up wearing my eldest brother’s pajamas, I don’t think that flinging around money like it’s nothing will ever be something normal.”

Tony looked horrified at the thought, “I’m glad Pepper stepped in when she did… no one’s wearing hand me downs here. Only upcycled clothes from designers if you really need to be environmentally friendly.”

“I don’t even know what that means,” Ginny said, shaking her head. 

“He’s being an elitist billionaire,” Natasha replied. “Let’s quit while we’re ahead. We’re expected on the practice field, let’s go.”

“Hell yes! We get to workout?” Ginny asked. 

Natasha’s eyes were subtly approving of Ginny’s enthusiasm.

“Sort of,” Tony replied, leading them back towards the elevator.

“Can we change?” Hermione asked.

“Nope,” Tony replied, popping the P like it was chewing gum. “You’ve never fought in your uniform, so you need to practice in it.”

Hermione tried not to cry or scream when they moved out of the elevator, grateful that Luna seemed to sense her discomfort and moved to stand beside her.

“Look at that, everyone’s on time,” Natasha announced dryly. 

“Captain, if you could lead the team in a warm up,” Phil directed, sitting in a chair in a far corner of the extremely large, open room. “Sam and I will watch and observe.”

“I’m leading the backup squad,” Sam said with a gap-toothed smile, crossing his legs casually. “I’d love it if I wasn’t needed, though. Give me a day off, huh?”

Hermione was out of shape; extremely so. She’d done her best to keep up with cardio during the war, but running had been out of the question when she was confined to a well-warded space. She’d kept up with pushups, lunges, squats, and ab exercises at the beginning, but when food was scarce, she spent most of her time plotting and sleeping. She had no extra energy to expend.

“Wow, Granger,” Tony whistled as they finished the warm up. Hermione didn’t even have shame at the way she plopped onto the ground.. “You’re even more out of shape than Bruce, and that’s saying something.”

“Oi, shut your bloody mouth!” Ginny retorted, storming up to him and getting in his face. 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Down, pup. All I’m saying is if you can’t keep up your strength in a fight, which skeletor number one can’t, you are caught unaware and get hurt.”

Hermione bit her tongue to the point of tasting blood, keeping her face down so she didn’t cry. She was so out of it, and Tony was hitting her where it hurt like he seemed to do so well. To be fair, though, he was an equal opportunity arse; she had seen his sarcastic ire pointing at others as well.

“Tony, just stop,” Steve said, voice full of the command that sent tingles down Hermione’s spine. 

“Give us our wands and we’ll make him stop,” Ginny chimed in.

“Phil?” Steve asked. 

Hermione looked up at Ginny and Luna’s happy squeals, honestly surprised and elated to see the agent dropping their wands into Luna’s hands with a sharp look.

Luna skipped over to Hermione, gently placing the muggleborn’s beloved wand into her hands.

If Hermione were to focus on anything other than her wand, she would’ve noticed the entranced and curious looks all around the room.

“Go ahead, show us something!” Clint said, bouncing on his toes like a kid in a candy shop.

Hermione and Ginny shared a smirk.

“Petrificus totalus!” Hermione called out, a deep feeling of contentment flowing through her veins at using magic again.

“Fucking brilliant,” Bucky laughed, clapping his hands together as he moved to stand over a now petrified Tony. “That was so easy, too! You all know how to do that?”

“You want us to try it out on you?” Ginny asked with a laugh.

“Color me impressed,” Natasha murmured.

“You aren’t setting yourselves up well here, girls!” Phil called out from the corner of the room, having to hide a smile of his own.

“No fun,” Hermione whispered to herself, flicking her wand at Tony again.

“Such a bitch!” Tony whined, standing up and dusting himself off.

“Hey!” Bucky called out, voice dark as he pushed Tony back to the ground. “You don’t talk to a lady like that.”

Tony, for his lack of sense, had the self-preservation to cover his face as both Steve and Bucky moved to stand over him.

“Sorry, sorry! Pepper will evict you all if you kill me!”

“Get up and apologize to the lady,” Bucky replied, kicking Tony’s leg lightly.

“Sorry, Granger,” Tony said, looking properly chastised by the younger, yet much larger and more dangerous men.

“It’s okay,” Hermione replied tightly, tapping her wand against her hand in a way she knew was threatening to a muggle she’d already cursed.

“Woah!” Clint crowed. Hermione looked over to see Luna and Loki working in tandem to create what looked to be a magic dome over Thor. The blond god was smiling and clapping within the dome, looking far too happy and mesmerized by the proceedings.

“Ginny, shoot a hex at him then duck!” Luna shouted brightly, voice echoing in the awed silence of the room.

“Stupefy!” Ginny called, screaming then ducking quickly as the stream of bright magic boomeranged back towards her.

After realizing that it worked, Luna dropped her wand and turned towards Loki.

“You brilliant, powerful witch,” Loki purred, running one pale hand down Luna’s similarly pale cheek as though they were the only two in the room.

“Your power tickled my insides, Loki. Stick by me?” Luna asked, a dreamy smile on her face as she stood on her tiptoes and looked into his eyes.

“I’ll never leave you, witch.” Loki murmured, pressing his lips against hers as if he couldn’t help himself.

The room was quiet for a moment, and Hermione was caught between happy tears and incredulity. 

To no one’s surprise, Tony ruined the moment.

“Um… didn’t have that one on my bingo board.”

“Mother is going to be thrilled! A beautiful young witch and a wedding… what luck, brother!” Thor beamed.

Loki pulled away from Luna and squinted his eyes at his brother. “Why don’t you focus on living through the night first?”

The blond god nodded. “What an idea that is, Loki! These young witches have blessed our odds indeed… why don’t we see what they can do?”

“No injuries! Disarm only,” Phil called without glancing up, his head deep in a pile of yellow folders. Sam looked torn between wanting to join the fray and being content where he was, half-in and half-out of his chair.

“So what? You want us to just attack all of you?” Ginny asked with a raised brow.

“Don’t count us out just yet,” Clint replied, looking offended.

“Count me out,” Bruce said, moving to the side.

“Why?” Ginny asked.

“You’ll see one day,” the even-keeled man mumbled, moving to sit down near Sam.

“Let’s go,” Tony said, touching a button on his wrist that had his robot suit covering his body once more. Hermione would never get used to the ease with which technology worked in this world.

The trio of witches moved into a formation they were all familiar with from war; back to back, covering all sides.

Hermione felt overwhelmed immediately, even though the Avengers were just attacking with their bodies.

The crew was shooting stupefies like it was their job, but even after Clint and Thor were taken down rather quickly, they still had the others encroaching on them. Natasha took Ginny down without warning. Hermione heard the smack as they hit the ground and the woman tried to wrench the wand from Ginny’s hand. 

Luna and Loki found themselves in some sort of erotic back and forth on the ground, their mouths meeting as she rubbed herself on him, wand placed gently near his shoulder.

Hermione was stuck trying to take down Bucky, Steve and Tony who didn’t get the memo that the simulated fight had failed miserably, moving quickly to back herself into the wall while shooting spells so that no one could attack from anywhere but her front.

She shot the arm off of Tony’s suit with a severing spell, and the man said he surrendered which left Hermione with only the supersoldiers. 

As powerful as her magic was, she was still human; when all 200+ beefy pounds of Bucky came charging at her, she automatically flinched, hoping he wouldn’t actually hurt her.

“Sorry, doll,” the man chuckled right into her ear, tickling her rib cage gently instead of slamming her through the wall as she feared would happen.

“I thought you were going to kill me,” Hermione exhaled. 

“I’d never hurt you if I could help it,” Bucky replied.

“That was impressive,” Steve smiled, frowning as he turned around and saw Ginny and Natasha fighting on the ground still and Loki and Luna’s tongues meeting in the open air. “That’s disgusting. Quit it!”

It took both pairs a moment to realize that Steve was talking to them, and only Natasha had the decency to look slightly embarrassed.

“Maybe you two could get up?” Steve asked politely, averting his eyes from the indecent picture that Loki and Luna made.

“The better we know each other, the stronger a pair we’ll be,” Luna replied, staying put from where she’d parked herself on Loki’s hips.

Hermione flicked her wand to wake up Thor and Clint before performing a quick reparo on Tony’s suit that had the man breathing a sigh of relief.

“No one’s ever busted up this suit before. Good work, Granger,” Tony replied, begrudgingly impressed.

“I never want to experience that again,” Clint exclaimed nervously as he stood up after Natasha offered a hand.

“Quite the contrary, my friend! I saw stars… what a magic moment! What talent, young witches.” Thor beamed before looking down at his brother and Luna’s compromising position and full on grinning.

“I need to wash my eyes,” Steve muttered, causing Hermione to giggle.

“Shut your mouth, captain. As though we haven’t wanted to set fire to our eyes watching the erotic affections of you and your soldier,” Loki called out with a lazy, yet sharp tone, one hand stroking down Luna’s back.

Hermione’s stomach jolted. Were the men… together? That was certainly news to her. It was also surprising when she felt her thighs tingling at the thought of the men together. What on earth? She tried to talk herself down; they’d be leaving in a mere matter of days or hours, there was no reason to even think about the men like that. 

“Again, this time can we use knives?” Clint asked, restrapping his gloves.

“Again, with knives,” Natasha agreed, reaching into her boot to grab a knife that had Hermione gasping. Just who were these people?

xxxxxxxxx

Unlike a pacing Tony, Ginny, Clint and Thor, Hermione joined those who were still. She hadn’t moved in what felt like hours as the sun set and dark clouds moved over the pitch black sky. The room that the girls had been dropped in only weeks ago was now completely barren. They’d removed the furniture and barricaded themselves into the large space after shutting off access to the kitchen and transfiguring the floors and walls to cement. There would be no furniture in their way; it’d be a battle to the death.

It was only moments after a bow and arrow wielding Clint yawned that a pop sounded in the room and Bellatrix Lestrange popped in, falling on the ground with the power of inter-dimensional travel.

“Avada kedavra!” Hermione shouted, killing the woman without a second thought. It was almost… too easy.

“Shit,” Clint breathed, popping an arrow into his bow. “That was vicious.”

Hermione was too surprised with the quickness of what had occurred to even have guilt over killing the woman. Not that she could ever feel guilt for the woman who’d tortured her and taken the life of her own family members

“She deserved that,” Ginny said, holding her wand up protectively as Natasha moved to ensure the woman was dead and pat her down for any objects. “What she did to Hermione…”

“Stop,” Hermione said in a much louder voice than she meant to. “Please, Ginny… He’ll be here soon if Bellatrix doesn’t return.”

She missed the concerned looks that a battle ready Steve and Bucky shared from where they were flanking her.

They’d formed fighting pods after testing out a few different tactics, with Hermione, Bucky and Steve as one, Luna, Loki and Clint as another, and Ginny, Tony and Natasha making up the third. Bruce was in a cordoned off part of the floor with Sam, Dr. Strange and countless S.H.I.E.L.D. agents who were prepared to come in if and when one of the witches or Tony blasted a hole in the thick, concrete wall, signifying that they needed backup.

Hermione, much to her chagrin, was right. An even sicklier looking Voldemort popped in with a large group of men, thirty or so if she had to guess. The spacious room felt much smaller with so many people inside. She only recognized Marcus Flint at first glance, signalling just how many of the man’s original inner circle had fallen.

The muggleborn started shooting killing curses out, Bucky’s machine gun firing into the unsuspecting Death Eaters’ ranks. The men all let out a shout, clearly not ready for an immediate onslaught and nowhere near the talent of the vicious men and women she’d fought as a younger girl.

She was almost sad as the men fell with barely a fight. Only Voldemort was left, horcrux hung innocently around his neck which made one thing extremely clear… this would all end now, with the help of superpowered strangers. Something they hadn’t been able to do with their world’s best and brightest. Something Dumbledore and Harry and Remus and Snape and international wizarding leaders couldn’t do seemed as though it would end with a whimper, not a bang.

Loki and Luna looked to be giving Voldemort the fight of his life, multi-colored spells coming right at him without relenting. The man, despite his age and fractured, sickly soul, was giving as good as he got, brittle teeth held so tightly Hermione thought they might shatter then and there.

“My lovely wife enjoys jewelry, but I have better plans for this necklace,” Tony said through his suit, landing behind the snakelike man and ripping the horcrux off. The fight didn’t even seem fair at this point as Thor grabbed the man by his now bare neck like he was scruffing a naughty kitten. He held him up in the air easily as Ginny, Luna and Loki held their wand and hands toward his now flailing body in warning. If Hermione were to look, she would see the others standing sentry over the bodies to ensure those who were still alive were incapacitated enough not to get up.

Tony snatched his wand like it was candy from a baby. How was it all so easy?

“Finish it, witch,” Tony said as he dropped the horcrux on the ground and opened a compartment in the hip of his suit to reveal the basilisk fang that Thor had brought back from wherever he’d gone.

Hermione took a shuddering breath as Bucky and Steve moved back, though still hovering protectively and closer to her than anyone else would as she stabbed the final horcrux. A powerful wave of dark energy knocked Hermione down, her head smacking the unforgiving concrete that she’d transfigured with her own wand earlier that day.

Still, she stood up shakily, pressing a hand against her head and barely having a thought when she saw it came away covered in blood.

“No!” Voldemort yowled as he curled in on himself, sounding more like a child than a mass murdering dark lord.

“How do we get back?” Hermione asked the still-screaming monster, voice slurred.

Thor put him on the ground, holding the much shorter, yet still tall, wizard by his neck.

Voldemort just laughed.

“You’re not going back, stupid girl!” he spat, legs shaking.

“Send us back!” Hermione screeched, moving close enough that his next glob of spit and blood landed on her face. If she’d have looked back, she would’ve seen Bucky grabbing Steve’s arm, holding him back from charging forward with his shield. As angry as Bucky was, he understood the need to be the hero in your own story more than anyone.

“You’ll live and breed and die here, mudblood.” Voldemort replied through a laugh.

“Avada kedavra!” Ginny shrieked through a sob, the spell coming far too close to Thor for Hermione’s comfort, not that she’d ever tell Ginny that. The redhead screamed and sobbed as she attacked the man’s body with her fists, as though it could make up for everything he’d done. As if it could make up for everyone they’d lost.

“Let’s go,” Natasha said after a few painful seconds where only the punching of Voldemort’s dead, disgusting body and the pained cries of the few men who’d been hit with Clint’s arrows or stabbed with Natasha’s knives cried out. Bucky barely looked as he fired kill shots at them, leaving Ginny’s cries as the only noise in the cavernous room. “Let’s go, Ginny.”

The younger woman allowed herself to be dragged out of the room as Luna shot a hole in the wall that had armored agents pouring through, guns in hand.

“It’s over,” Steve informed them loudly, not wanting any of them to get caught in the fray. “It’s over.”

“It’s over…” Hermione said, slightly dazed, feeling ever-so dizzy as she backed up to rest against a wall, slumping to the ground. How did it end like this? Without even a fight… had she missed something over the past few years? Could it have really been so easy all along?

“Hermione?” a voice asked gently. She shook an arm off of her, not wanting to be touched as she thought through what she could’ve done differently to have come to this outcome years ago. While everyone she loved was still alive. While she wasn’t stuck in another dimension without hope for returning. But even if she’d returned, what was left for her? Who was left for her? Who would have the power and wherewithal to lead the small wizarding population who’d hidden away in their bunkers like cowards? Would she truly have been able to look cowards like the Macmillans and Greengrasses who’d fled the country in a cry of neutrality in the face once they’d returned and used their galleons and last name to get a prestigious position in the depleted Ministry ranks?

She let out a cry as she was moved, flailing wildly as her wand was easily plucked from her hand in the daze she’d found herself in.

“Cool it, darling,” a now familiar voice warned. She looked up with wide, loopy eyes to see Bucky staring down at her, concern lining his face. “Your hair is more blood than curls, gotta get you to medical.”

“My wand…” she replied, feeling far dizzier than before she’d been scooped up.

“Stevie’s got it, he’s right behind us. See?”

“I’ll keep it safe,” the man promised, moving to Bucky’s left so Hermione could see him from where she was cradled in Bucky’s arms. She closed her eyes after a moment though, feeling like she’d puke from staring at something while moving what felt extremely quickly. 

The ding of the elevator was the last thing she remembered, feeling very much like a pathetic damsel in distress as her eyes closed and she slumped her full weight into the arms of the man holding her.

xxxxxxxxx

Hermione let out an alarmed croak as she opened her eyes to bright lights and a stranger hovering over her.

“Oh! Welcome back to the land of the living, Miss Granger,” a pretty Asian woman greeted, continuing to fiddle with whatever was weighing down Hermione’s right hand.

“Ow,” Hermione whined. What was the woman doing to her?

“Shh,” a voice soothed, and Hermione tried to turn her head to the sound. She was surprised at the heaviness in her body that had her falling face first into the plastic railing of the bed. “Careful! Careful…”

Steve, she now saw, moved fast enough to save her from bashing her face into the railing, much to her relief. But there were still too many questions left unanswered.

“Good save, Captain Rogers!” the same woman praised, voice as quiet as before. “Get her settled back against the pillows carefully, please. Mind her bandages… there you are.”

“Whatsat…” Hermione moaned, words just… jumbled as they came out.

“My name is Dr. Cho, I’m the head physician here at Avengers Tower… you had a bit of a concussion and a wound on your head when you came in, but we’ve got you all stitched up and good to go. It looks like the intravenous ibuprofen is hitting you a bit hard, likely because you haven’t used it in a long while. Perfectly normal, but your weight and nutrition need some looking after.”

Hermione closed her eyes, letting out a groan. Why did everything hurt so badly?

“What’s wrong with her?” Steve asked quietly, arms crossing his chest in concern as he stared at the tiny slip of a thing in the bed. How did his ma cope with his slow, human healing when he was just a little bigger than Hermione?

“What’s not wrong with her?” the doctor retorted. “Sorry, that was a bit much. She’s just fine… head injuries are nasty little buggers, she just needs to sleep it off. Then she’ll need a completely revamped diet and exercise regimen to regain her strength, all three of the girls will...”

“Haven’t seen girls look like that since the Depression,” Steve murmured. “Not accidentally, at least.”

Instagram models were a different story, and though Steve thought Hermione could gain herself a pretty massive following, he knew her thinness was a different story. One he and Bucky had lived through almost 100 years ago.

“War is hard on all of us,” Cho replied lightly. “I take it that you’ll stay in here? I’m assuming Loki’s back trying to wake up Miss Lovegood and convince her to leave the planet.”

Steve rolled his eyes, “Go handle that… I’ll take watch.”

“Thanks, captain.”

Steve wasn’t surprised when Bucky walked into the hospital room, the man’s hair wet after showering.

“Gym?” Steve asked, closing his copy of The Giver. He was making his way through the classics, and this was one of his favorites so far, despite the teasing argument Clint had started over him reading kid books. A book about a hostile government censoring its people? Not just a kid’s book.

“Where else? Got a good punch in on Sam,” the man smirked. “He was a bit peeved he missed out on the fight.”

Steve’s eyes fluttered to Hermione at the mention, glad to see she was still asleep. The poor thing was out of it when she’d been up a few minutes ago, so he didn’t want to chance a mention of the fight when her brilliant mind wasn’t working at full capacity.

“Needed someone we trusted to lead the ranks if we all died, he knows that.” Steve replied.

“You’re smitten, Stevie. I’d feel jealous if I was,” Bucky said, plopping himself into the chair next to his partner. The comfiest hospital chairs this world has ever seen was what Tony boasted them as, and no one would fight him on that.

Steve had the decency to blush as he shook his head, grabbing Bucky’s hand in his own and squeezing.

“You’re the only fella for me, Buck. You know that.”

“You know as well as I do that that’s no fella… she’s a lady,” Bucky replied, eyes gentle in a way he’d only let Steve see as they roved over the small woman’s sleeping form. Even with her curls riotously mussed up from the bandage that wove around her head and her mouth slightly agape as she slept, she was beautiful. Different from any woman they’d seen before.

“I don’t need a lady, Buck,” Steve replied.

“Don’t make this about me, Stevie. This is all you and your doubts.”

“We don’t even know what she thinks about us individually, let alone both of us as a pair,” Steve replied, as earnest as always.

“We’re a package deal, Stevie… you know that. She’ll know that once we sweet talk her, too,” Bucky smiled.

Steve leaned his head on Bucky’s broad shoulder, pressing a fond kiss to the cool metal.

Bucky let out a soft chuckle. “You should know by now that you’re never gonna win an argument against me.”

“I’ll keep trying,” Steve replied.

The men were quiet for a bit, watching baking videos on Bucky’s Instagram until Hermione started rustling around in her bed.

“What…” she mumbled, in the exact same way she had the first time she’d woken up.

Bucky moved to kneel at her side, making quiet soothing noises. He was gentle in the same way Steve remembered from when he was constantly laid up in bed as a boy. Bucky was a natural comforter and mother hen, and Steve’s heart swelled just watching the man’s instincts in action. He’d come so far over the past eight years, and Steve was honestly grateful that this whole ordeal hadn’t occurred while Bucky was still in the early phases of healing.

Not that there hadn’t been a fair share of fights with supervillains and petty criminals over the past few years, but Bucky would’ve been in a different place mentally when it came to even thinking twice about bringing Hermione into their life in… that way.

“Hurts,” Hermione whimpered in a way Steve knew she’d be embarrassed about if she was fully aware.

“Oh, I know, doll… You’re so brave,” Bucky crooned, stacking pillows behind Hermione as she squirmed to try and sit up. “Let’s get you some water… there’s a girl.”

Bucky held the straw to her mouth, being careful not to jostle the glass.

“Girls?” Hermione asked, eyes becoming visibly more alert as she fully ruminated on the thought. “What…”

“You’ve said that already,” Bucky joked.

“Bucky,” Steve chastised. “Luna and Ginny are safe and healing up, sweetheart. Everyone took a few hits during the fight, but we’re all recovering.”

“Why are you two here?”

“Supersoldiers, not even a train could take us out for more than a day,” Bucky smirked.

“Don’t try that,” Hermione muttered. “What is this?”

“It’s an IV, it’s giving you pain medicine and fluids. You have a concussion from smacking your head on the ground and you’re severely malnourished… you all are.”

“Don’t need to be hospitalized for a concussion.”

“You do when you’re thinner than a toothpick,” Bucky replied.

“He’s right, Hermione. Some rest will do you well, and you’re far from the most surly patient the doctors and nurses have ever seen. Tony has that one covered.”

Hermione croaked out a giggle at that, letting out a sigh.

“I hate needles… mum and dad never held my hands when I got shots either.”

Bucky and Steve’s faces both immediately fell at that doped-up admission.

“We’ll always hold your hand when you’re scared,” Bucky promised. “I used to hold Stevie’s at the doctor, so he can vouch for my skills.”

“Buck,” Steve replied, blushing lightly. “Ma was the protective sort, she never let me go alone.”

“You were twelve going on seven, for a while. Good thing I looked like a middle-aged man before my voice got deep, would never let us in together otherwise,” Bucky said, drawing a laugh from Hermione.

Steve only shook his head, far too used to the exaggerated way that Bucky described their past. He knew it was a coping mechanism, of course, and he’d let the man have it.

“You aren’t middle-aged,” Hermione snorted, smacking her IV-laden hand towards Bucky like the world’s laziest kitten.

“Stop jostling that, darlin’,” Bucky chastised, placing her hand back on the bed.

“We aren’t middle-aged, more like… 90 something.”

Hermione rolled her eyes.

“Don’t look it.”

“Yeah? You like the way we look?” Steve asked despite himself. Who said he couldn’t have a bit of confidence? Sure, almost all of his life had been spent with Bucky, but there were still nights that they’d take a lady home with them and that required more than just a wink and a beckoning finger every once in a while.

Hermione blushed, closing her eyes.

“Sorry…”

“No apologizing, not for that,” Steven replied warmly. “What do you need right now?”

“The loo.”

“Gonna tap out on that one, let me see if there are any ladies around.” Bucky said, standing up and walking into the hallway. “Found one real quick…”

“Hi Hermione,” Pepper greeted kindly, fully dressed like she was coming from the office. Hermione realized absently that she didn’t even know what day it was or how long she’d been asleep. “How are you feeling?”

“Tired, hurt… my normal.”

Pepper laughed lightly. “Mind if I help you to the ladies room?”

Hermione shook her head; she had no sense of modesty at this point in her life.

Bucky peeled the quality sheets off of Hermione, taking her right hand in his flesh hand and using his metal hand to pivot her legs so they were hanging over the edge of the bed.

“There you are, be careful. You’re gonna be dizzy.” Bucky warned, holding his hands out   
towards Hermione as she stood up and listed to her left side, IV tube jangling in the air.

Steve had a hard time staying in his seat, hands gripping the plush material until he heard a creak. Pepper looked at him knowingly… the woman was scary. She knew everything.

“I’ve got the IV stand,” Pepper said, walking behind them and rolling the bag. Pepper had to shoo the man out of the spacious hospital bathroom, and Steve smacked the chair next to him so that Bucky would come sit. No one needed a supersoldier with enhanced hearing right outside of the bathroom.

Steve started a conversation with Bucky so that they could both focus on something other than what was happening across the room, and they had the courtesy to look away until Pepper called out for assistance from a half-open door.

“I’m fine,” Hermione snapped, far weaker than she clearly wanted the phrase to sound.

“You’re stuck with the two biggest mother hens I’d ever met, dear, I’m fine isn’t going to cut it,” Pepper smiled, arms crossed across her chest as she watched Bucky carefully settle Hermione back into bed. “Need anything else while I’m here?”

Hermione thought for a second. “My hair… can it be pulled back?”

Pepper looked stumped for a second. The woman didn’t wear a hair tie on her wrist, but she knew Bucky did.

“Can I have your hair tie, Bucky?” she asked, already holding her hand out. The man removed it from his wrist immediately and handed it over.

“We can only do a very loose low pony so that we don’t pull on your wound,” Pepper said as she very gently pulled Hermione’s curls towards the nape of her neck. “That’s as good as we’re going to get for now.”

“Thank you, Pepper,” Hermione smiled, feeling infinitely better without curls bouncing against her face. For someone who liked to focus, having curly hair often left her frustrated enough to scream. The feeling of hair on her face and falling into her ink had her almost spelling her hair off once a week. Hopefully muggles from the future could help fix that.

“My pleasure, Hermione. If only Morgan was as easy to please as you, the girl needs elaborate french braids or she’ll tie her hair into literal knots herself. Let me know if you need anything, okay? JARVIS knows where to reach me.”

Hermione giggled and let out a yawn that surprised her, but no one else. They could tell she was about to fall asleep again.

“Turn on the telly, please?” Hermione asked with a small smile. “Does this one have the channel where they cook?”

Steve and Bucky shared a grin, happy to not be the least tech savvy people around anymore.

“You bet it does,” Steve smiled. “JARVIS? Can you turn on Barefoot Contessa?”

“Of course, captain.”

Hermione fell asleep after only a few moments of Ina Garten’s soothing voice, and no matter how much the pair enjoyed the show, they liked watching Hermione sleep more.

“Gotta give her time, Buck… she has a lot of healing ahead of her.”

“Don’t we all?” Bucky asked with a small smile on his face, taking the soft kiss from Steve as a resounding yes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what ya think!!


End file.
